A Shakespearean tragedy typically tells the story of a seemingly heroic figure whose major characteristic flaw causes his story to end in his tragic downfall. The elements of a Shakespearean tragedy can also include external conflict, internal conflict, manipulation and abuse of power, supernatural, and chance happening. The setting of our story is a failing economic system – the prevailing neoliberal policy framework has failed society, resulting in monumental and growing income gap. In short, the existing neoliberal capitalism in America appears to be another name for economics controlled by an existing economic elite. Populists and neoliberals see the crisis facing their countries as an opportunity, for populists to prove their charisma and for neoliberals to discredit state-interventionist development model. The heroic figure of the story, Donald Trump, the so-called anti-establishment candidate, has a tragic flaw – the need for fame, letting adulation wreck his judgment. Successful populists like Trump essentially earn a mandate from their supporters to shake up the system.
The action of our heroic figure is motivated by external and internal conflicts – which play off one another. Trump’s internal conflict is the confusion in his mind about his legitimacy, and his need for validation. When Trump moved from Queens to Manhattan, he wished to be more than accepted in Manhattan, he wanted to be adored, there and only there, and came to despise it when time and again he was rejected. His humiliation at his failure to ‘make it there’ is at the heart of his vengeful compulsion to wreak humiliation on those he fears will belittle him. The uncontrollable anger that unleashes a regular flood of insults derives from his profound feeling that he is the true victim. Resentment born of entitlement, of the feeling that he was being treated an inferior though he knew he was superior, was an inadvertent and inverse link with the lower middle-class whites who fled Queens and Brooklyn in the 1950s and 1960s for the Long Island suburbs to escape black migration.
Manipulative characters all play a hand in the hero’s downfall. Steve Bannon and Steve Miller are two such characters. Steve Bannon took over Breitbart News in 2012, which has long been the vehicle to promote Bannon’s slate of populist “anti-establishment” Republican candidates. Way back in August 2015, long before James Comey became a household name and “lock her up” became a go-to chant, Breitbart was already expertly tricking readers into thinking reputable news outlets – in this case the Washington Post – were the ones doing the spinning. In August 2016 Bannon is named CFO of Trump’s presidential bid; following victory is appointed Chief Strategist in the Trump Administration. Stephen Miller is a far-right political activist who serves as a senior advisor for policy for President Donald Trump. He was previously the communications director for then-Senator Jeff Sessions. He pushed white-nationalist materials on staffers at the Breitbart website in the runup to the 2016 presidential election.
Bannon who says he wants to destroy the state is attracted to the ideas of Julius Evola on traditionalism. Evola’s book, Revolt Against the Modern World, speculated that the near-universal myth of a lost Golden Age was actually a collective memory of a time when religion and temporal power were united, and society was ruled by spiritual warriors. Evola’s belief that creating change is “not a question of contesting and polemicizing, but of blowing everything up.” In short, cultural ecology predicts that a historical moment of change such as now occurring would provide the ideal growth medium for social and religious movements that glorify a largely imagined past, anticipate a cathartic renewal (which they may seek to precipitate) and promise followers a privileged position in the coming order. Traditionalist movements often sell themselves as counterculture. The modern world (or so the right-wing narrative often goes) is corrupt, morally decrepit, decadent and decayed as standards have slipped.
Through the use of the supernatural in Macbeth the witches create a sense of mystery. The opening scene is significant because it puts the audience in fear. A product of tabloid culture, Donald Trump has long trafficked in conspiracy theories – from climate change denial to the lie that former President Barack Obama was not born in the United States – and many of his ardent supporters spend hours on line spreading them. One conspiracy theory began with articles in far-right and Russian media outlets before spreading to the fever swamp of internet message boards. Another originated with a researcher connected to Steve Bannon and a Ukrainian prosecutor accused of going soft on corruption. Trump launched a campaign to push both of these evidence-free narratives, culminating in a July telephone call with his Ukrainian counterpart that now sits at the center of impeachment proceedings. Conspiracist fears provide a warped logic to the politics of the far right.
Shakespeare, in most tragedies, allows ‘chance’ in some form to influence some of the action. A chance happening in the first term of the Trump presidency was the firing of FBI Director James Comey. The firing came two months after Comey confirmed at a hearing in March 20th that the bureau was investigating “whether there was any co-ordination between the Trump campaign and Russian efforts” to influence the 2016 presidential campaign. This event significantly changed the course of the Russia investigation and led to the appointment of Mueller. In the 2018 midterms Democrats retook the majority in the House – gaining new powers to investigate Trump. The day after the Mueller Report flopped, Trump got on the phone with the Ukrainian president and repeatedly sought his help in an attempt to damage political rival, Democratic candidate Joe Biden. That men may start a course of events but can neither calculate nor control it, is a tragic fact.
Neoliberal transformations and structural violence have impacted many countries. An example of the banking system: If a leading presidential candidate in an emerging market lost favor with Wall Street, the banks would pull their money out of the country. Voters then faced a stark choice: Give in to Wall Street or face a financial crisis. It was as if Wall Street had more political power than the country’s citizens. Even in rich countries citizens were told: “You can’t pursue the policies you want” – whether adequate social protection, decent wages, progressive taxation, or well-regulated financial system – “because the country will lose competitiveness, jobs will disappear and you will suffer.” Elites promised that neoliberal policies would lead to faster economic growth, and the benefits would trickle down so that everyone, including the poorest, would be better off. To get there though, workers would have to accept lower wages, and all citizens would have to accept cutbacks in important government programs.
If the 2008 financial crisis failed to make us realize that unfettered markets don’t work, the climate crisis certainly should. The problem is that politicians only think as far ahead as the next election. With the proclamation of the 21st century to be the era of climate change, the Trojan horse of neoliberal restructuring entered the political arena of climate change talks and policy, and a more virulent strain of capital accumulation began. For this reason, delegates from the African nations, with the support of the group of 77 (developing countries) walked out of the 2009 United Nations climate talks in Copenhagen, accusing rich countries of dragging their heels, on reducing greenhouse gas emissions and destroying the mechanism through which this reduction could be achieved – Kyoto protocol. In the absence of an internationally binding agreement on emissions reduction, all individual actions taken to reduce emissions – a flat global carbon tax, recycling, hybrid cars, carbon offsets, a few solar panels here and there, and so on – are mere theatrics.
Along with the democratization of the political sphere, modern writers of tragedies have turned their gaze on the plight of the common man. For Arthur Miller, a story becomes tragic when the common man, to gain his dignity, fights against his world and circumstances, despite all odds against him, and loses. After two years, Trump’s tax cuts have failed the common man. The claim that a huge tax cut for the wealthy and corporations would trickle down to everyone else was based on an outdated and discredited set of ideas for how the economy works. The Trump administration’s only focus is the next election. If it has anything to do with Obama or climate change they are against the regulation. Andrew Steer, president and CEO of the World Resources Institute, said the move to pull US out of the Paris Climate Accord is “cruel to future generations, leaving the world less safe and productive”.
Donald Trump did have some valid and important insights into America’s current problems and he had a chance to do something about them when he got elected. His promise to bring back the factory jobs of 30 years ago gave working-class Americans hope for better jobs. That opportunity has been wasted, however, and Trump’s flaws as a politician, strategist, and human being are the main reason why. Trump’s performance record as president is comprised of an unbroken string of broken promises, opportunities squandered, principles violated, and intentions abandoned. These results notwithstanding, we must respond to this tragedy. Individuals and communities can simply concentrate on practical efforts to bring the greatest good to the most people (and other species) over the longest time by rethinking and redesigning production and consumption patterns in anticipation of the failure of the existing consumerist institutions.